Dark Betrayal
“My condolences, Miss Calvary.” Mr. Hawkins’ voice echoed through the phone. Hera’s eyes were glued to the laptop in front of her, as she spoke to her father’s best friend.
“Thank you, Mr. Hawkins,”a she replied quietly, leaning back in the chair of her father’s study. She was still wearing the black mourning clothes. From several rooms away she could hear her mother’s raw, continuous wailing and her sister’s soft attempts to comfort her.
It’s still so hard to believe that her father was gone.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make it to the funeral,” Hawkins said.
Hera exhaled softly. She didn’t particularly care who had attended, her father was gone, so it really made no difference.
“You don’t need to apologize. I’m sure Father understands,” she said. Then her tone shifted. “But there is a problem, Mr. Hawkins.”
“What is it, Hera?”
She picked up a stack of files and began flipping through the pages, searching for something that wasn’t existing.
“The company…The revenue is down, expenses are up, and we’re bleeding money every day. From what I can see here, it looks like we’re bankrupt.”
She whispered the rest of the words, fingers going into her hair, frustration bubbling over.
Losing her father overnight to a cardiac arrest had been devastating enough. Losing the company he had spent his entire life building— the one thing he had cherished most— felt like a second, equally cruel blow.
She had spent the last six hours in his office, searching for any way to salvage what remained. Now she was beginning to fear it was already too late.
When Hawkins stayed silent, she pressed, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“Calm down, Hera.”
“How can I calm down when everything my father worked so hard for is at risk?” she snapped.
Hera’s head reeled with frustration as she rose from behind the oak desk. “Mr. Hawkins, why didn’t Father ever say anything?”
The long silence on the other end confirmed her suspicion: Mr. Hawkins had known the company was on the brink of bankruptcy.
“Hera, you know how he is,” he replied, his voice tinged with apology. “He isn’t the sort of man who burdens his family. He didn’t want you to worry.”
“But you knew about his heart condition?” The line went quiet again. “You knew he had a bad heart. You should have at least said something.”
“He made me promise I wouldn’t tell anyone. You know how your mother is.”
Hera’s eyes burned with tears. She realized they might have prevented his cardiac arrest if they had known about the problems at work. She drew in a deep breath.
“Tell me, Mr. Hawkins—is there any way out of this mess? Some strategy or plan that could turn things around? I don’t care what it is. I’ll do it.”
“I don’t believe all hope is lost,” he said. “I’ve also been in contact with Erica Benedict, a world-renowned business strategist. If we engage her, I’m confident she could find a way to salvage the situation.”
“Can she be trusted?” Hera asked, doubtful. “Things are delicate right now. The slightest mistake could finish us.”
“When have I ever deceived you?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled heavily. “All right. We’ll give it a try. Please schedule a meeting for tomorrow.”
“I will. Have a lovely evening.”
Hera ended the call.
*****
“Ms. Benedict, it’s an honor to finally meet you,” Hera said with a warm smile. She couldn’t help but notice the other woman’s confidence and poise. Erica was tall, with piercing grey eyes and perfectly styled brown hair.
“We’ll skip the pleasantries,” Erica replied as they shook hands. “I’m sure you already know who I am. We don’t have much time, so let’s get straight to business. I’ve reviewed the financials you sent over, and I have a few strategies to discuss.”
Over the next several hours, Erica and Hera dug deep into the company’s financial statements, trying to pinpoint where the money was disappearing.
And they worked until night.
“Good night,” Erica muttered at last, picking up her bag and leaving.
Hera remained at her desk, still searching for more problems, until her blue eyes flicked toward the alarm clock on the table.
6:18 p.m.
“Shit!” she yelled, jolting upright. She had planned a dinner date with her fiancé, Hans, for 4:00 p.m. She had been so absorbed in the work that she hadn’t noticed just how much time had passed or even when Erica left the office.
Grabbing her bag, she rushed out of the office, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.
She reached the elevator and jabbed the button, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for the doors to open.
Outside, the evening air was cool, almost freezing, and the streetlights cast a warm glow over the city. She climbed into her car, a blue Honda Civic she had recently bought for work, and drove toward Hans’s house.
The porch lights were on, washing the front yard in a soft glow and lighting the path to the door. The two-storey house was painted a dull grey, with gold trim that gave it even more charm. Through the large front window, Hera could see that the living-room lights were on as well. Soft light spilled out onto the porch, making the house look cozy and inviting, but there was just one problem.
The door was opened, she didn’t even need to use her key.
Something felt off. A woman’s coat was draped over the couch, and two empty champagne glasses sat on the glass-topped coffee table.
A sharp pang of suspicion hit her.
Had Hans been entertaining another woman? Determined to find out, she followed the trail of discarded clothes down the hallway that led to the bedrooms.
Hera went pale the moment high-pitched voices spilled from Hans’s room.
“Ah! Yes—” Her nails bit into her palms. “Fuck, yes! Harder!”
She edged the door open a crack and froze.
Her best friend Janice was tangled with Hans, her fiancé, in raw, feverish sex.
“God, you feel so good,” Hans groaned, driving into her even harder.
Hera stood rooted in the doorway, the sight hitting her like a bucket of ice water. A sharp, acidic bitterness rose in her throat, like she swallowed a basin filled with raw lime juice.
“Right there… that’s the spot.”
For a second Hera thought of walking away, pretending she’d never seen it, maybe if she pretended hard enough, it won’t be true.
Then Janice’s brown eyes locked onto hers. The ecstasy on her face morphed into pure horror the instant she realized they’d been caught.
Hans, still lost in his own lustful pleasure, kept thrusting until Janice shoved at his chest.
“No—stop, Hans… Hera!” Only then did he glance back and his eyes went wide the moment they met with Hera’s glossy ones.
“Someone better tell me right now,” Hera said, voice low and shaking, “what the fuck is going on here?”
